


It's Always Darkest During the Dawn

by pmaculata



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Trans Dave, Verbal Abuse, bro gets his ass whooped by cps, theres gonna be jaderose later on too, this is the au known as "CPS actually does its job for once"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-08 10:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10384635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmaculata/pseuds/pmaculata
Summary: As far as Dawn Strider knows, Dawn's brother is the best one on the earth. The only problem is that their neighbors don't seem to think so.





	1. The First Battle

Your name is Dawn Strider and you know you should be able to dodge the attacks thrown at you, at least in theory, but you can’t and all you want to do is go inside and have a bowl of mac and cheese (if bro remembered to go to the grocery store this week) and maybe curl up on the couch for a nap. But no, instead you’re outside in the freezing cold (it seems to bite into your skin) on the roof and your arms are a mess of cuts and bruises and it hurts, it hurts more than anything’s ever hurt before and you collapse onto the rough red brick and flit in and out of consciousness and then your brother picks you up and carries you inside and suddenly you’re sitting on the linoleum of the kitchen and it’s cool to the touch but pleasantly cool, not like the wind outside, and he’s bandaging you up with a straight face but you barely register it and the antiseptic hurts, it hurts like hell, so you scream, and he tells you For god’s sake, shut up, do you want the neighbors to hear?, but you don’t care if they hear or not, because right now it’s your third birthday and all you want is to lie down and fall asleep. Later on, he gives you a cupcake and you forget all about the events of the morning.

Your name is Dawn Strider and it’s the next day. As usual, you’re home alone, so you drag yourself out of bed and mumble a sleepy hello to Cal. who’s standing there like always. Bro says he’s watching over you to protect you but honestly these days you’re not so sure, there’s something inside that puppet’s eyes that hint of evil. But you’re three years old and you don’t even know how to put that into words yet so you wave hi to Cal and go into the kitchen to make yourself breakfast. You open the fridge, expecting there to be some cereal or at least something that’s less than a month past the expiry date, but instead there’s a rush of silver metal and suddenly you’re covered in swords, and these are sharp and they hurt, and you’re pretty sure your attempts to protect your head and body have opened up some of the cuts from yesterday, and now you’re bleeding on the same linoleum you were getting your wounds patched up on the day before, and oh god oh god oh god he’s going to be so mad at me, and you want to scream so badly but you don’t want to get in trouble, so instead you bite the bullet and you stumble into the bathroom and you don’t know what’s what because you can’t really read small type all that well, so you take what you hope is rubbing alcohol and you slather it on your wounds and it stings like a million wasps but you know that if he finds out you hurt yourself like the stupid kid you are he’ll hurt you worse, so you stick it out and bandage yourself up and turn on the tv.  
The rest of the day passes by as usual.

He gets home at around two in the morning. He reeks of alcohol and sweat and he says he’s taking you dancing. You don’t know what he means but at least he isn’t in one of his bad moods so you smile and he kisses you on the forehead and picks you up and twirls you around and you giggle and laugh in glee...until he notices the swords littering the kitchen floor. He puts you down and his face flashes dark for a moment, but a miracle occurs: he turns back to you and says that he’ll clean them up later, but don’t you think it’s time for you to get to bed? Grateful that he’s still in at least a moderate mood, you agree wholeheartedly and let him shepherd you to your bedroom, where he tucks you in, sets up Cal by the window (you say goodnight to him too, don’t want to leave him out), and steps out, turning the lights off with him. Cal’s eye gleams in the darkness, so you wave to it and, being absolutely exhausted, you fall asleep.

You dream of monsters and magic and strange metal machines and gears clicking and clacking and turning ever-so-slowly over a pit of boiling red...Is that jell-o? Whatever it is, it burns you when you try to touch it. You twist and turn and wake up panting and in a cold sweat more than once. Each time, you think you can see something moving but it’s just out of reach and in any case, you’re too exhausted to wonder what it is or try any harder to reach it than flinging a hand out to your side halfheartedly and tumbling back into your dreams.

Li’l Cal’s eye still shines, but now there’s a bright red light under it. You don’t notice, though. You never do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preschool, fighting, dinosaurs, and Aradia Megido.

Your name is Dawn Strider, and it’s your first day of school. Your brother went out and got you a brand new dress--no more icky old shirts of his tied around the waist with a cord or one of his old belts to keep it hiked up so you don’t trip and fall. Of course, you’d much rather wear pants, but your brother says you’ve got to look like what you are--that being his perfect little princess. He hasn’t even made you do training for almost a week so that your wounds have time to heal. (You’ve still got to wear a long sleeve dress, though, there are scars that you aren’t allowed to let anyone see.) That’s a huge privilege in and of itself so you’re on cloud nine as you walk down the block to your preschool hand in hand. He drops you off at the door but before you walk into the room, you’re met with one more surprise. Your brother reaches into his pocket, takes something out, and kneels down to meet gaze. You tap his hand and look up at him with a question in your eyes and he responds by opening up his hand and fitting a smaller pair of his own sunglasses on your face. You hug him and grin and rush inside the classroom.

When you get inside you’re met by a sweetly smiling teacher who takes your hand and introduces herself as Ms. Rosa and compliments you on your flowery dress and guides you to your seat. It’s next to a kid who’s currently mauling a bright red crayon by shoving it repeatedly onto a piece of printer paper, making waxy flecks all over the page. You ask him what he’s drawing and without even turning to you he says “It’s a war. See? That guy’s getting deaded.” He gestures to a black scribble on the bottom corner of the paper and if you crane your head you can kind of see that it’s a person? Maybe? If you squint? Well, whatever it is, they’re definitely bleeding a lot. You think. Or it might be ketchup. You turn away to where the teacher is pointing to a pointy shape on the whiteboard. “Ayyy,” she says. “Ay. Apple. Ah.” You know what an A is, so you go to the corner with all the books and settle down with one that has a giant skeleton on the cover. It’s pretty interesting, you think, as you look at the pictures of what the book says are giant lizards that lived a long time ago. You think it’s kind of outdated because the t-rex is colored bright purple and it spells color with a U but it’s better than reading about ladies getting naked in the magazines your brother leaves lying around the house. Another kid shoves you out of the way and you crash to the floor, too shocked to do anything about it. But then your instincts kick in and you shove back, punching and kicking them just the way Bro taught you. He's gonna be proud, you think as you attack them. Really, really proud.

Ms. Rosa isn’t proud, though, as she herds the both of you down the hallway, chastising you all the while. “Dawn, I expect better of you,” she says. “You’re much more civilized than that, I’m sure.” She turns to the girl. “And you, missy, are already on thin ice! After attacking Equius last week I’d think you should know better.” You cringe a little as she pushes you into the waiting room, gives you both the death eye (grown-up language for _watch out, you little stinkers, I’ve had it up to here with your antics and I am thiiiis close to losing it_ ) and goes into a room adjacent to where you’re sitting to call your parents.

Aradia gets taken home early, picked up by a tall woman who’s smoking a cigarette and talking to her in rapid-fire Japanese as she apologizes in broken English to Ms. Rosa. She reluctantly takes her hand, waves bye to you, and says that she’ll bring in one of her own books about dinosaurs tomorrow if you want to see it.  
You think you’ve just made your first friend.

* * *

Bro picks you up after school, and by that time you’ve been waiting in the lobby for nearly three hours. The first thing he does is slap you across the face--and hard. Your eyes well up with tears but you know you deserve it. It’s your fault you read the book Aradia wanted to read, after all, and instead of fighting back you should have just laid there and taken it like a man. Like a girl. Like the wimp you are. He apologizes profusely to Ms. Rosa, who keeps looking from him back to you with a bewildered--or is that worried?--expression on her face. He pulls you out the door and back to the apartment. You aren’t crying, even though you’re right on the verge--if you did, you’d surely get in trouble, and it would make your punishment so many times worse. 

You can’t even bring yourself to look in his eyes as he talks to you, even though your cheek stings like hell and he’s using his serious voice, the one that makes you think about the horror movies you watch late at night when he hasn’t come home yet and you told him you’d wait up for him. “Dawn,” he says. “Dawn, I need you to listen to me. That wasn’t okay. You can’t--You can’t just go around beating people up.” Somewhere deep inside your brain registers that he’s being hypocritical, that that’s exactly what he does to you, but you don’t even know that word yet, how could you? You’re only five and you’re terrified and you have no idea what to do. 

Luckily, you aren’t punished that badly--you’re not allowed dinner for that night or breakfast the next morning, and you’ve got to stay in your room the entire time, but they’ve run much harder in the past, and you haven’t acquired any new injuries, so for that at least you’re thankful. You can hear him pacing up and down the hallway leading to your room, stopping every few seconds to check something, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you hear his door unlatch and him step inside. You know that he’s going to mess around with his puppets for at least a half hour or more so there should be enough time to run out and get something to eat. You’re halfway down the hall when you’re ambushed and you barely have enough time to scream before your brother’s fist connects with your arm and you’re sent sprawling to the floor. He sneers at you and you coil in on yourself in a desperate attempt at protecting your face and body. He says you’re a stupid little girl and of _course_ you’d try to go out to get food, only an idiot would try to get food after they’ve been told not to, and you’re just a little idiot aren’t you? You gasp through tears and finally agree, saying yes, yes I’m an idiot, and he drags you back to your bedroom and locks the door and you’re left sobbing in a corner and watching bruises form on your arms like so many yellowbrown tattoos.


	3. The Beginning Of The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ms. Rosa makes a very important call to a very important person and sets in motion a chain of events that will affect both her and Dawn (Dave?) for the rest of their lives.
> 
> Comments would be very much appreciated! I'd like to know what I can do better as this is one of the very first fanfictions I've ever written.

The next day at school you’re talking with Aradia about the benefits of having a pet brontosaur vs a pachycephalosaurus when Ms. Rosa pulls you aside and asks you about the bruises on your arms. You immediately apologize, saying you’re really sorry for not remembering to wear a long sleeve dress, and Ms. Rosa hugs you, but that makes you confused, so you push away, and she just looks at you with her sad face on. She sighs and says she needs to make a phone call and would you come with her to the office? You hesitate for a moment and then you nod quickly and decisively because it’s better than being reprimanded out in the classroom where everyone can see. You say goodbye to Aradia and that you’ll be back later to finish the debate and she gives you a quick hug and says good luck because she’s been to the office many times before, usually for teaming up with Sollux on the playground to fight somebody who dared badmouth her, and she knows how bad it can be.

As Ms. Rosa leads you down the hall you wonder what you’ve done to deserve this. You haven’t hurt anybody, and you haven’t yelled at anybody recently either. You’re fully clothed, and you’re wearing your shoes and dress just like everyone tells you a good little girl should. (You’ve learned from experience that no matter how enjoyable it may be to you, running around like a little hooligan in only underpants and socks is not a socially acceptable behavior for a young lady like you to be participating in.) You rub your arms because the air conditioner is on high and it’s cold in the hallway and it hurts because you’re grazing over still-fresh bruises so you flinch and settle for clasping your hands underneath your arms to warm them up. Ms. Rosa notices you shivering so when you get to the office she offers you her pink cardigan and tells you that it’s all going to be okay. You nod and say you sure hope it will be and she says that you’re not in trouble, which puzzles you, because you’re in the office, aren’t you? And doesn’t that mean you’re in trouble? But your teacher just smiles and shakes her head and disappears around the corner to make the phone call she brought you in for.

It’s been ten minutes and she’s still not off the phone and you’re bored to death so you heave yourself off the bench where you’re sitting and wander over to the principal’s office to poke around. There’s a tie dye stuffed bear on his desk and a coffee cup full of unsharpened pencils with little designs on them that you’re meant to take when it’s your birthday. It’s already been Kanaya’s birthday and she came back from the office with a pen with little smiley cartoon frogs on it and pretended to shoot lasers out of its tip until she accidentally cut Eridan with it and had it taken away. Your birthday isn’t until a few months from now but you take one anyway because it has little cassette tapes on it and you have an old cassette player in your room that you listen to songs on sometimes and besides the background is red and that’s your favorite color even though it’s also the color of blood, and that’s your second-least-favorite liquid ever, coming up behind cotton candy and bubblegum cough medicine which in your opinion shouldn’t be allowed to exist.

You’re playing with your new pencil and twirling it around on the desk when Ms. Rosa bustles into the room and tells you that tomorrow afternoon you’re going to have a special pull-out time with a special guest in a special room and it’s very, very important that you tell her the truth about everything that happens to you at home. You’re not sure why this is going to happen but you know it’s important to be truthful to adults (Bro taught you that after you lied to him when you stole a cookie from the cabinet during one of your punishments) so you agree and it’s nearly time for school to end and Ms. Rosa gives you a hug and tells you that if you ever need anything or want to talk about something you can come to her and you say you will and she gives you to Bro who for once is on time picking you up from pre-k and wishes you goodbye and good luck. You turn back and notice her shivering and you realize that she forgot her cardigan with you, but by that time, you’re too far away to run back and give it to her.


	4. The Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn is removed, Bro is irate, and Ms. Redglare becomes a recurring character.
> 
> Comments and critiques would be much appreciated--I'd like to know how to improve my writing skills! As always, thank you so much for reading!

Your name is Dawn Strider and you’re sitting in an unfamiliar room in your school building talking to a lady who you just met that day. The room is very small, a vaguely pink cube with rough painted walls and just enough room for a folding plastic desk and two chairs scooched tight underneath it. She introduced herself as Ms. Redglare and you laughed because it was a funny name so she tilted her glasses under the yellow fluorescent lights of the school to show you how they did, in fact, glare red and then, because you liked her and you thought she was funny, and now she’s asking you questions about your life at home with your brother. 

You tell her about the scars and cuts running up and down your limbs and you told her about how you fight him up on the roof every week or so but he says it’ll get more often as you grow up, and you can’t wait, because even if once in a while he slips with his blade and cuts you it’s still fun and a good way to get your energy out. She asks if he really only slips once in a while because with the amount of injuries you have she’d think it would be more than that and you say that it’s only a few times per session, and that anyway it teaches you how to handle pain and that’s a very important part of being an adult. Ms. Redglare tilts her head at this and it looks like she’s about to say something but she hesitates right before she does and motions for you to go on telling her about things.

You talk to her about how sometimes there’s no food in the house, so you have to either starve for a day or two or take a chance at running across the street to the grocery store with whatever coins you can scrounge from around your room or in the couch on one of the many occasions your brother is out of the house. You tell Ms. Redglare what it’s like to live in a house where you’re always being watched and how you’ve found this one secluded spot tucked behind the couch where the cameras can’t see and how one time you found a video of yourself on one of your brother’s websites and people were commenting words you didn’t know so you closed the tab and hoped he hadn’t noticed that you were on his computer.

Ms. Redglare says that she’s so sorry this has happened to you and you say that she shouldn’t be sorry because nothing’s wrong and she she looks you straight in the eyes and she tells you that you won’t be going home today. You don’t fully process this so you sit there, under the flourescent lights, wondering what she means by that because of course you’re going home today, right? Right? Bro’s going to pick you up after school and you’re going to tell him about your favorite dinosaur again and he’s going to tell you how he feels like a dinosaur sometimes and you’re going to laugh and smile and go home and eat if the fridge is stocked up, it should be because he promised to the grocery store today, but the lady sitting across from you just jabbers into her phone about needing a court order and can she get it today? Please? And _god damn it this is one of the worst cases I’ve seen in a long while, I can’t let this little girl suffer anymore_ and you sit there wondering if you’ve done anything wrong, and _what_ you’ve done wrong, and somehow knowing on some innate level that from this moment on, your life is going to change forever.

Your brother storms in right on time to pick you up. You’ve warned Ms. Redglare that he’s gonna be angry, and she said that she wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And you said that it’s okay, he’s going to be angry at you, so you should be there to take the blame, and you weren’t scared then, that much is true, but right now you’re terrified because he’s _right there_ and you’re remembering the only other time you’ve ever seen him this angry, and it was when you accidentally spilled some applesauce on Cal and that was the time he punched you so hard you felt something crack and you had to go to the hospital and you couldn’t even talk on the way over there, just gasp like a fish as the doctor told your brother--who was being referred to as your father for some reason--that you had a fractured rib and that it would take a while to heal, and that he should really consider getting a bath mat because if the floor is so slippery that your toddler falls on the edge of the tub and cracks a rib then it’s a good investment to protect against further incidents like that. You wanted to call out that that wasn’t what happened, but you knew that you had been wrong about the truth of what happened many times before, so you just shut up and waited for the hospital visit to be over.

But back to the present. Your brother is fuming mad, and he stomps into the office and demands to know _just what the fuck is up with this school_ and _how in the fucking shit do you bastards from the government have the right to take Dawn away from her loving home_ and you hide behind Ms. Redglare as she fields all his questions calmly and professionally. He raises up a fist to threaten her and the moment he moves to punch her she grabs it and says in a steady voice “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave now.” You hide behind a desk as she escorts him outside, but before he’s past the door, he turns to you and says that you’re a nasty coward for telling on your older brother who’s provided for you all these years. You nearly cry but then stay hidden, because it’s just like the crevice next to the couch at home--if he can’t see you, then you’re safe.


	5. Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey look it's porrim  
> hyeah the title is Meaningful  
> Please leave a comment if you liked it or if you didn't, I'm always open to constructive criticism! ^^  
> A big thanks to iCried for beta reading!

Your name is Dawn Strider and you don’t know where you’re going. You don’t have much on you, just your dress, because your brother wouldn’t let anybody into your apartment--no, you remind yourself, it’s _his_ apartment now, you don’t live there anymore--to pick up your clothes and belongings. Oh, and your sunglasses. They’re cracked now, a spindly grey line streaking across and up and down their sleek black surface. You test the outside edge against your finger--the point of the triangle is still sharp. Good. If you need to defend yourself, you’re ready.

But you don’t. You don’t need to fight anymore. You’re in Ms. Redglare’s car, or more accurately Ms. Rosa’s, heading to the former’s apartment as her car was scratched all over by your ex-guardian in a show of childish revenge, puffing out his feathers just to show that he’s even an inch bigger than the large entity protecting you now. Protecting you. What a funny concept. Ever since you were tiny, since you can remember, your brother’s trained you to “protect” you in the outside world. Kind of ironic, you think, that he’s the one you ultimately needed to be protected from.

You don’t think about it exactly that way, of course, because you’re so terrified and you’re so worried and you’re so, so damn young that you just barely register the hypocrisy and irony in the back of your head, planting a seed that you’ll return to later, late at night, as you cry into your pillow and flash back to the rending screech of metal on metal turning to the sickening scrape of metal on flesh and bone. But we are getting far ahead of ourselves, and so we return to the “you”, to the little girl--or is she? (Or are you?)--sitting in the back of a passenger seat next to your teacher and behind a stranger heading to a place you don’t know.

The place you don’t know turns out to be Ms. Rosa’s house. Ms. Redglare apologizes and tells her that she’ll have a placement hopefully within the week, and at least now you can go to school like normal, and isn’t that the best thing for everyone involved? Ms. Rosa nods and herds you in the door to her house, which is a tiny apartment on the top floor of a brownstone. You tromp up the stairs and try the door that leads to the kitchen--it’s unlocked. She yells up at you to please take off your shoes, which you do, and you step inside.

The linoleum is cold on your feet and it immediately brings back memories you don’t want to think about, so you turn right because you see carpet and that’s better than the freezing white tiles. You step past the doorway and find yourself in a bedroom that wouldn’t look out of place in a particularly nice nursing home--a window by a queen-sized bed (impeccably made, complete with a dulled pastel floral comforter that’s worn thin from years of use), a chipped cream yellow nightstand table with a painted-brass lamp with a thin, embroidered lampshade hanging from it, and a chest of drawers standing opposite the bed. The drawers are mahogany, or maybe oak, something that’s stained dark red like wine, but they also look comforting and inviting and you really need some comforting right about now so you heave open the big doors on it and you climb inside.  
The interior of the chest is smooth, and there are extra blankets and pillowcases and sheets piled beneath you. You can feel the edges of clothes neatly folded onto hangers tickling your head and shoulders and the whole thing smells like a thrift store, in the warm, musty way that seems to whisper _come on in, here’s a bit of the past_. You clamber into a corner of the dresser and curl up, pulling a blanket over yourself as you do so. You never were one for naptime, but right now that’s the only bit of familiarity that’s left, that and your sunglasses. Before you doze off, you reach up and feel their edges, because you like the blunt sharpness and it’s reassuring to know that those, at least, are still there.

When you sleep, you dream. You dream about cakes and aliens and a tall man with a big white round ball for a head and the strange green men who work for him and are soft to the touch and it makes you giggle because why would skin feel that way? It’s not supposed to! And you dream about your brother, and then it becomes a nightmare, and suddenly he’s only a kid again, and he’s tall and lanky and wearing a giant poofy dress like the kind you’ve seen in your books about bards and princes and knights and castles and that’s all fine and good but suddenly he’s in two parts, and you’re the one that did it, and he looks up and he laughs and he calls you a fucking idiot from a voice that’s not his own, and then he’s your brother, the one you know, and he’s whole and he’s reaching up to get you and you scream and you hear a clatter of voices and pots and pans and a teenage girl’s voice yelling _MOM! Will you make her SHUT UP?? I’m TRYING to talk to Latula!_ and Ms. Rosa’s shoes on the carpet and Ms. Rosa’s face looking at you from the open closet door and Ms. Rosa’s perfume encircling you and Ms. Rosa’s hands picking you up and her arms holding you and her voice telling you that it’ll all be okay and you sob into her shoulder and cling to her tight and she doesn’t let go, even though the girl in the next room is yelling about _Some misogynistic dickhead in my gym class_ and you feel the rumbling vibrations of her voice in your chest and arms as Ms. Rosa yells back that _If it’s Cronus again you just tell him right off and let a teacher know that he’s being inappropriate_ and you’re safe you’re safe you’re **_safe_**.


	6. Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its totally a mountaintop

You wake up bleary-eyed in a tangle of sheets and blankets. They’re coated with an unfamiliar smell, something old and comforting yet foreign and uninvited. You wrinkle your nose and turn over, teetering on your side and then collapsing onto warm body. You creak open your eyes and turn up your face and see your teacher sitting on a couch next to you and typing away on a laptop. You make a noise somewhere between a hiss and a gurgle a little call to let her know you’re awake and you want to be acknowledged, but don’t yet have the energy to bring yourself to speak.

She looks over from where she’s typing and smiles. “Ah, you’re awake?”

You nod that yes, you are, and she raises her arm slightly and you snuggle in, burrowing yourself in her side. She says she took a day off of school to care for you, she says, and she asks if you’d like pancakes for breakfast. You nod and say yeah, and ask if you’re really allowed to eat them, and she laughs and says yes of course you are, and you can even have some maple syrup if you’d like.

You don’t think your eyes can go any wider, because you can eat and you’re so hungry and you don’t know when, if ever, you’ve had a proper meal. You wiggle out of your blankets as Ms. Rosa stands up, puts down her computer, and stretches her hands over her head, and attach yourself right behind her legs as you follow her into the kitchen. She gathers the ingredients needed to make pancakes and motions for you to sit at the island in the center of the room, busying herself with the act of preparation while you dangle your legs from the stool and eat cut strawberries out of a small brownish-red pottery bowl with your bare hands, then wipe them on a paper napkin Ms. Rosa’s put next to the purple plastic placemat. The napkin stains red and you stifle a gasp because it’s so familiar, the liquid seeping through the paper, it’s bringing back memories of the same scene but with the paper substituted for a bandage and the strawberry stains substituted for your own blood. For a moment it looks as if it’s real, as if it’s just dirty wrappings hastily shoved over wounds that likely won’t heal for days longer.

You push the bowl away and it crashes to the floor, shattering into pieces that cut you when you fall off your stool onto them. You feel the pottery bite into your arms and legs and back, and you can feel the blood starting to seep into your dress, and you shriek and Ms. Rosa drops the whisk and hurries over to make sure you’re okay, and that’s foreign to you, because if you cut yourself before, Bro would just wave it off and say you had to deal with it yourself, but now she’s asking you where it hurts and setting you aside on a safe area of the floor, but that’s cold and it’s hard and it’s made out of linoleum and you see the red dotting its white surface and for a split second you’re back there, you’re back at the apartment and the pottery shards around you are suddenly silver-white metal, and you reel backwards trying to escape the scene, but instead you just manage to hit your head on the hard surface of the floor and at least it shocks you back into the here and now but your head hurts like the dickens and you cry loudly, bawling in the early morning, and Ms. Rosa finishes cleaning up the broken bowl and the strawberries inside it and picks you up in her arms and you settle into her chest and the bawling and yelling turns to crying turns to sniffling as she gently rocks you and kisses your forehead and tells you that you’re safe and that everything will be okay.

You finally calm, and she puts you down and makes sure you’re alright before bustling off to finish preparing the pancakes, which taste delicious and fluffy and you laugh while you’re eating them because the sensation of being full, of tasting something sweet like syrup, the sticky joy of having a real life family, even if just for a few days, is so novel to you that it comes as a welcome surprise.

When you’re halfway through your third pancake, a teenage girl comes barreling out of the room opposite Ms. Rosa’s bedroom. She runs to the kitchen and slams her hand hard against the counter, then seems to melt into a chair and groan like the world is falling down around her.

“Porrim, honey, what’s wrong?”, Ms. Rosa asks, but the girl just moans and puts her arm over her eyes in a vague recollection of dramatists performing some emotional monologue in days of yore.

“Everything, mother, EVERYTHING is wrong!” She sighs long and hard and then starts yammering on about Latula starting to date Mituna and how even though they said she could take Latula to the prom it would still be “a DISASTER” and why was Kankri even invited to Thanksgiving anyway?

Ms. Rosa walks over to tend to her daughter and you pick up a copy of Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and settle in on the couch to read.  
A knock sounds on the door and while Ms. Rosa rushes over to fetch whoever it is, you peek your head out from the couch’s protection and listen to what she’s saying. Whoever’s at the door had their head blocked by the cushion, but a familiar voice spurs you up and off of the sofa and into the arms of Ms. Redglare, who picks you up and bounces you while she talks to Ms. Rosa using words you don’t know like “permanent placement” and “foster family”. She tells you to say goodbye to Ms. Rosa so you do, and you give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and the biggest hug you ever gave anyone at all and follow Redglare down to the scratched-up minivan she borrowed to drive you to…well, to wherever it is she’s bringing you this time.  
Before she starts the car, though, she brings a battered pink suitcase out of the trunk and zips it open, telling you to choose a few things to wear. The first thing that leaps out at you is a red shirt that has to be at least three times bigger than your size emblazoned with a black DVD. You grab it and tug it on over the clothes you’re wearing and Redglare says it’ll do and straps you into the car seat.  
It’s a long, long drive up to wherever you’re staying. On the way there, you alternate sleeping and pressing your face up against the window to see the colors of America whirling past, blurring together like swirling finger-paints blending into a miasma of light and sound and oh so many marvelous shapes and designs. You ask Ms. Redglare where you’re going more than once, but she says the Lalondes, and you don’t want to press further and make her annoyed so you decide it’s a mountain range where you and her will live out long lives in the trees playing with animals and eating pancakes. At least, you hope so.


End file.
